Thither came the princes and potentates of the realm, thither great dignitaries of the church, among them the pope’s legate, Cardinal Alexander, who was commissioned to demand that the emperor and the princes should call Luther to a strict account, and employ against him the temporal power.  But to the cardinal’s astonishment he found that the people of Germany had largely seceded from the papal authority.  Everywhere he met with writings, songs, and pictures in which the holy father was treated with contempt and mockery.  Even himself, as the pope’s representative, was greeted with derision, and his life at times was endangered, despite the fact that he came in the suite of the emperor.

[Illustration:  STATUE OF LUTHER AT WORMS.]

The diet assembled, the cardinal, as instructed, demanded that severe measures should be taken against the arch-heretic:  the Elector of Saxony, on the contrary, insisted that Luther should be heard in his own defence; the emperor and the princes agreed with him, silencing the cardinal’s declaration that the diet had no right or power to question the decision of the pope, and inviting Luther to appear before the imperial assembly at Worms, the emperor granting him a safe-conduct.

Possibly Charles thought that the insignificant monk would fear to come before that august body, and the matter thus die out.  Luther’s friends strongly advised him not to go.  They had the experience of John Huss to offer as argument.  But Luther was not the man to be stopped by dread of dignitaries or fear of penalties.  He immediately set out from Wittenberg for Worms, saying to his protesting friends, “Though there were as many devils in the city as there are tiles on the roofs, still I would go.”

His journey was an ovation.  The people flocked by thousands to greet and applaud him.  On his arrival at Worms two thousand people gathered and accompanied him to his lodgings.  When, on the next day, April 18, 1521, the grand-marshal of the empire conducted him to the diet, he was obliged to lead him across gardens and through by-ways to avoid the throng that filled the streets of the town.

When entering the hall, he was clapped on the shoulder by a famous knight and general of the empire, Georg von Frundsberg, who said, “Monk, monk, thou art in a strait the like of which myself and many leaders, in the most desperate battles, have never known.  But if thy thoughts are just, and thou art sure of thy cause, go on, in God’s name; and be of good cheer; He will not forsake thee.”

Luther was not an imposing figure as he stood before the proud assembly in the imperial hall.  He had just recovered from a severe fever, and was pale and emaciated.  And standing there, unsupported by a single friend, before that great assembly, his feelings were strongly excited.  The emperor remarked to his neighbor, “This man would never succeed in making a heretic of me.”

But though Luther’s body was weak, his mind was strong.  His air quickly became calm and dignified.  He was commanded to retract the charges he had made against the church.  In reply he acknowledged that the writings produced were his own, and declared that he was not ready to retract them, but said that “If they can convince me from the Holy Scriptures that I am in error, I am ready with my own hands to cast the whole of my writings into the flames.”